Page 17 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Richie

The diner’s bell jingles as Cole and I step onto the sidewalk, the cool, misty air brushing my cheeks after the warm comfort of pancakes and my strawberry milkshake.

“Yup, that was just what I needed,” I say, my tummy full of tasty pancakes and super-sweet milkshake.

“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Cole says, a warm smile on his face. “This place ain’t so bad.”

Millville’s Main Street stretches before us, a cozy blend of cute storefronts with faded signs, their awnings dripping from the morning’s drizzle.

It’s got the kind of vibe that I like. I might live in the city, but a part of me has always craved living in this kind of cozy place.

Growing up, I lived in a small suburb, which had none of the busyness of the city and none of the charm of a small town.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a nice place, but it just lacked something – or maybe that was because Pop wasn’t around much. Who knows.

Anyway…

Cole’s alongside me, his broad frame looking great inside his fitted t-shirt, but he pauses as Henry and Kash arrive on the sidewalk, the pair of them having downed one final espresso in the diner.

“Parked just outside town,” Henry says, his tone gruff but friendly, clapping Cole’s arm. “Catch you later, brother.”

Kash nods, his quick grin softening his stoic face as he grips Cole’s shoulder, a gesture of unspoken trust.

“We’ll talk. Soon,” Cole says, watching them leave and then casting his eyes back onto me.

Henry and Kash turn, striding down the street, their boots echoing, and I watch, struck by the brotherly bond between them.

It’s more than friendship—it’s the kind of loyalty Pop always said Night Ops Guards forge in the heat of danger, a bond that makes me feel protected, like Cole’s backed by warriors as fierce as he is.

A little thrill sparks, too, as I wonder: are Henry and Kash Daddies?

Their strength and quiet authority is like Cole’s, and I blush, tucking the thought away, my heart racing at the idea of more men like Cole out there.

“Let’s move, boy,” Cole says, his voice low.

Cole turns back to me, his dark eyes softening, and offers his hand.

I take it, my fingers slipping into his warm, calloused palm, and a wave of joy washes over me.

It feels wonderful, like we’re a real Daddy and Little couple, strolling through this sleepy town, the world shrinking to the warmth of his grip.

His hand is steady, grounding, and as we walk toward the parking lot, the uneven sidewalk cool under my sneakers, I feel it deep in my heart…

I can trust Cole. Not just because he’s Pop’s best friend or a Night Ops Guard, but because of last night, when he held me through the storm, when he let me call him Daddy and made fear feel like a distant memory.

Cole’s care is real, a shield against the chaos, and it makes my Little side hum with contentment, safe in his presence.

But I’m still Richie Selleck, son of none other than Hunter Selleck, and Pop’s lessons linger, sharp and clear: never fully trust anyone until you’re 100 percent certain, no exceptions .

Henry and Kash seem solid, their bond with Cole undeniable, but they’re strangers to me, and with Pop facing danger, I can’t afford to be naive.

I glance up at Cole, his profile strong against the misty street, and muster my courage.

“Daddy,” I say, my voice soft but steady, “Henry and Kash… are they okay? Can I trust them?”

Cole slows, his eyes meeting mine, serious but warm, like he’s weighing my question with the same care he’d give a mission.

“They’re true Night Ops Guards, Richie,” he says, his voice firm, a promise carved in stone. “I’ve trusted them with my life… Haiti, Syria, missions where trust was our only lifeline. They’re solid, and they’re here to help keep you safe.”

Cole’s thumb brushes my hand, a small, reassuring gesture, and I nod, relief flooding me. If Cole trusts them, that’s enough for now, and I let the worry dissolve, my heart lighter as we continue walking, his hand anchoring me.

We near the parking lot, the truck’s dark shape looming ahead, but my eyes catch on a storefront across the road.

A super cute bookstore, its window twinkling with fairy lights and overflowing with books.

The sign reads Pages, Paper, & Pines in whimsical, hand-painted letters, and a display of children’s books, with vibrant covers of dragons, princes, and starry skies, calls to my Little side.

I stare wistfully, imagining curling up with a new story, Fizz in my lap, Cole’s deep voice reading to me.

It’s a simple wish, but it glows in my chest, bright and hopeful, a piece of normalcy in our hidden life.

Imagine.

Just imagine…

To my delight, Cole follows my gaze and stops, his hand still holding mine.

“Want to go in there and have a look around?” Cole asks, his voice warm, a playful edge that makes my heart skip.

I turn to him, my smile bursting wide, excitement bubbling over.

“Yes please, Daddy!” I say, the word spilling out, full of trust and joy.

Cole’s eyes crinkle, a rare softness breaking through his guarded exterior, and he squeezes my hand, leading me toward the bookstore, the promise of stories and this moment with my Daddy potentially turning a perfect pancake morning into an even better one…

The bell above the door of Pages, Paper & Pines chimes with a soft, silvery note as Cole and I step into the bookstore, a warm, comforting scent enveloping us of old paper, polished wood, and a faint trace of vanilla, like the shop itself is a story waiting to be read.

“I love it!” I say, my eyes wide and a big smile on my face.

“Yup, I have to hand it to you, this great,” Cole says, showing real enthusiasm. “Let’s explore.”

The space is a cozy haven, its high ceilings crisscrossed with exposed beams, walls lined with towering shelves packed with books, their spines a vibrant mosaic of faded leather, glossy paperbacks, and embossed hardcovers.

Pendant lights dangle from above, casting pools of golden light that dance across the creaky hardwood floor, softened by a faded Persian rug in hues of crimson and gold.

A chalkboard near the counter lists upcoming book clubs and “staff picks,” its chalked letters curling playfully, while a small table holds a teapot and mismatched mugs, a sign inviting customers to “sip and browse.”

The air hums with quiet classical music, a violin’s gentle strain weaving through the rustle of turning pages and the occasional creak of a shelf.

A gray-haired woman at the counter, her glasses perched on her nose, sorts a stack of bookmarks, offering a warm smile.

A young couple in the travel section whispers about a trip to Tuscany, their voices low, and an older man in a tweed jacket browses biographies, his footsteps muffled by the rug.

The bookstore feels like a sanctuary, a bubble shielding us from the gray world outside, and my Little side sparks, eager to dive into this magical place.

And it’s not just me who’s finding this place the perfect tonic…

Cole scans the shop, his broad frame slightly at odds with the delicate shelves, but his dark eyes soften, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his Night Ops Guard vigilance.

“I’m gonna check out the fantasy books,” Cole says, his voice low and warm, a playful edge creeping in. “Weather’s looking rough again tonight, so I’ll need a hefty tome to keep me busy.”

Cole winks, a rare, teasing gesture that sends a flutter through my chest, his Daddy side shining in that small moment, making me feel like his Little in the all the best ways.

I grin, practically bouncing on my sneakers.

“Okay, Daddy! I’m heading to the kids’ section,” I giggle.

I clutch Fizz’s backpack strap, his furry head peeking out, and weave through the shelves, the hardwood cool beneath my feet.

The children’s section is a wonderland tucked in a corner, a burst of color and imagination. Low shelves brim with picture books, their covers alive with animals, castles, and starry skies.

A mural of woodland creatures—rabbits, foxes, and owls—sprawls across the wall, painted in soft greens and browns, and a cluster of colorful beanbags forms a cozy circle, inviting me to sink in.

A small table holds crayons, drawing paper, and a stuffed owl perched like a guardian, its glass eyes glinting. I plop onto a bright blue beanbag, the soft squish hugging my body, and settle Fizz on my lap, his button eyes gleaming like he’s ready for an adventure.

I grab a book from the shelf, its cover vibrant with illustrations of otters splashing in a river, titled The Otter Family Adventures .

I flip it open, diving into tales of a family of otters exploring a forest, their days filled with fishing in sparkling streams, sliding down muddy banks, and outsmarting a cunning fox.

The pictures are whimsical, bursting with greens, blues, and golden sunlight, and I lose myself in their simple, joyful world, my Little side humming with pure contentment, the safe house’s tension fading like a distant dream.

This is magical.

It’s so sweet, so Little.

But what I really need…

I glance up, spotting Cole across the store, a thick fantasy novel in his hands, his brow furrowed as he reads the blurb, his strong frame softened by the shop’s glow.

He’s so tough, a Night Ops Guard carved from steel, but I know there’s a gentle heart beneath, and I want to share this magic with him.

“Daddy!” I call softly, waving him over, my voice barely above a whisper to keep the shop’s quiet. “Can you pretty-pretty-pretty-please read some of this book to me? Right here?”

Cole looks over, his lips twitching into a warm smile, and tucks the fantasy book under his arm, striding over with that steady grace of his.

“Alright, boy, don’t say I never spoil you,” Cole says, easing onto the beanbag next to me, the fabric groaning under his weight, his presence grounding me.

He takes the otter book, his big hands gentle with the delicate pages, and starts reading, his voice low and rich, bringing the otters’ adventure to life.

“Mama Otter led her pups to the riverbank, where the water sparkled like stars…” Cole begins, his tone is steady, but there’s a tenderness woven through it, a care that makes my heart swell.

Cole’s a warrior, battle-hardened and fierce, but here, reading about otters on a beanbag, he’s my Daddy, embracing the gentle, caring side of this role with a love that matches my own.

I lean against him, Fizz in my lap, his warmth seeping into me, and let his voice wrap around me like a blanket, safe and perfect, the bookstore’s quiet amplifying the moment.

Sigh.

This is everything…

Then, back to reality. Cole checks his watch, his expression shifting to that Night Ops Guard focus.

“Time to move, Richie,” Cole says, his voice firm but kind, a Daddy’s nudge back to reality. “Let’s grab these and go.”

We head to the counter, buying his hefty fantasy novel and my otter book, the cashier’s smile warm as he bags them, his fingers brushing the counter’s polished wood.

As we step outside, the sky splits open, a downpour unleashing with a roar, rain pelting the sidewalk in sheets, cold and relentless.

Cole grabs my hand, his grip strong, and we make a mad dash across the street to the parking lot, my sneakers splashing through puddles, laughter bubbling up despite the chill soaking my hoodie, my backpack bouncing, Fizz safe inside.

In the truck’s passenger seat, I grab a towel from the back, drying my face and hair, my breath hitching from the run, my clothes clinging to my skin.

Cole slides into the driver’s seat, rain dripping from his dark hair, trailing down his strong jaw, his flannel shirt plastered to his shoulders, outlining every muscle.

Wow.

Just wow.

I want him to tear my clothes off right here and now…

I stare, my heart pounding, a warm flush spreading through me, arousal tingling down my spine like a spark. He’s so handsome, his rugged features softened by the rain, his eyes catching mine with a depth that makes my Little side hum and my body ache.

With the otter book in my lap and my heart thumping, I think about what kind of story this evening will bring.

Tonight’s going to be interesting.

In fact, it might be very interesting indeed.

But why wait, why not get things started right here and now…